In My Own Words
by Nothing Really Specific
Summary: A piece of nostalgia. Reposting an early piece of fiction involving Reepicheep and World War II. This piece marks 38 Reepicheep stories and this is not the best piece in the world. In fact, this was originally going to be my first story with the character but it was put off due to reasons. Here's that story in it's original text. Posted to show growth in development.
1. Chapter 1

**Nostalgia**** Piece: ****_In My Own Words_**

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>This piece is a bit of nostalgia for me. I wrote this between September 2013- March 2014 (theoretically, you can trace this piece back to 2012, for most of this is based off a dream I had).

**This is not** going to be the best piece of work in the world. I'm putting it up to show growth in Reepicheep's characterization and to present the origins of a plot-line which has grown substantially better over the past year. This was originally going to be my first Reepicheep fanfiction but it was scrapped due to reasons.

This is the closest piece to my first original piece, _The Kings of the World_, without actually being said piece.

This is also the first appearance of the name Kashmir, however, the character however was at one point called Hyperion and has been used since 2011.

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><p><strong>Chapter I:<strong>

The day my life changed would be the day this poor friendless soul, whose name was Eustace, stole an orange. I, being a good sport, gave him a few lessons in, well gentlemanly behavior some might call it. Ha, ha! What a show that was, what effort he gave! I was so proud of him. Then about thirty seconds after, something amazing happened. In one of the sandbags, hanging from the ropes of the mast, you know, the one's that keep the sails in check, well, one of them just so happened to be moving as if someone were trapped in there. I was about to go and help whoever this poor soul was when the bag just ripped open. Spilling sand everywhere! It was like an annoying snow, it covered everything, and I was not a happy mouse I can tell you that. No sir, I was furious, for I had just finished deck detail, and was not about to do it again. I walked over to a bleeding kinsman who fell from the great height of the mast and said to him. "I suspect that you'll be giving me a hand in all this."

He replied with an apparent painful attempt at sitting up. I almost felt sorry for him, so naturally I apologized in the only way I knew how. I walked over and helped him up, standing, this mouse was a bit larger than me, he was obviously a skilled fighter, a proud warrior. He extended his paw and shook mine, with a firm and gentle smile he said. "Hello sir, terribly sorry about the mess, I'll take care of it."

He turned around and was about to start sweeping with a nearby broom, the broom that I would normally use, when I stopped him.

"Pardon me sir," I said, "but what is that on mark on your back?" He didn't answer with words, he just looked at me, as if the answer to that question were the most painful thing in the world to him. "Forget I asked." I quickly responded and left him to his work.

I walked away, en route to get a water bucket for my kinsman to use when I saw Eustace staring out at the ocean, looking as if he had lost something. "Lose something?" I asked.

"What?" He said turning towards me.

"I said did you lose something?" I replied with in truth, little interest if he did or not.

"I just want to go home." Eustace said, in the same way he always did, at about the same time every day. Frankly it was getting on my nerves. Stop complaining and learn to live with it. I said to him once. He responded with a roll of the eyes a quick smile and a nod that told me that he really didn't care about what I have to say anymore. I never let it bother me though. Like I said, I knew that he was born to do something.

Just then my kinsman came up to me, presenting me with a clean and spotless deck. I smiled, impressed with his efficiency.

"Well," I said to him, "I believe I owe you an introduction." I cleared my throat, I'm not afraid to admit it, but I was a bit of a ham. "Reepicheep, Chief Mouse at your service." I bowed a bit, for some reason I always said the last part. It really doesn't mean anything. I've always said that titles do not make men, men make titles. I have told this to Caspian several times, but he never seems to listen. I waited for my kinsman to answer with his name. He looked at me in confusion, as if he was trying to recall something from a distant past.

"My name?" He asked. I nodded, waiting patiently with a smile.

"My n-n-name?" He stuttered.

Afraid to say anything, I was surprised that he wasn't shaking in the knees and spewing chunks of food all over the place.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

He shook his head.

"Can you remember your name?" I said, hoping to get something out of him.

"T-t-t-two, z-z-zero, t-t-t-two, s-s-s-seven, s-s-six, f-f-f-five."

202,765. I had no idea what that meant. It was obviously a number, and I doubt that was really his name. I was about to say something along the lines of, _"Are you called by anything else?"_ when he showed me his tattoo. It was located on the outer left forearm, underneath his top layer of fur. There it was, staring right at me, the number 202,765. I wanted to help this poor creature who couldn't remember his name, or anything that sounded like a name, so I gave him one, for myself only mind you, I would never actually say this to his face. I called this mouse, who I will call at this point, Stenreep, which loosely translates to "brother of Reepicheep", which I strangely felt that he was.

"Who did this to you?" I asked him.

"Doctors." He said.

"Well, rest assured there are no doctors of that kind here. We'll take care of you." I assured him but he didn't seem convinced. He had that look in his eye, the look of fear, of pleading for help, and he was explicitly asking me.

"Do you need anything?" I asked, wanting to change the subject. Stenreep looked at me and then at his stomach, which I noticed was thinner than usual, he may have been larger than me, I was certainly fatter than he was, and for a mouse, I was rather slimming.

Without question I led him to the cellar to pick and choose to his content, I was expecting him to gorge and binge, but I would underestimate him severely.

I stood watch from the cellar floor as he crawled about the shelves, looking for what appeared to be a particular food. "Need help finding something?" I asked.

"Where do you keep your olive oil, water, and grapes?" He asked. I was puzzled, for he was very specific and it was an odd arrangement.

"Olive oil is on the top shelf right hand side, water is in the barrel directly below you, and the grapes are on the far end of the middle shelf." I answered. Stenreep scurried off to the grapes first, then the olive oil and slowly made his way down to the water. I climbed up the orange barrel to see what he was up to. He stood on the ledge and held out the grape and olive oil bottle as if he were about to drop into the water barrel. His eyes were closed and his tail was waving back and forth slowly, as if in meditation. I stood silent, waiting to see what he would do, and for a long time he just stood there. I almost gave up when suddenly he spoke.

"Brother Reepicheep, do you believe in the power of life and death?"

"Yes I do kinsman."

"What exactly do you believe?" He said.

"I believe in life, for death is only momentary, for he holds you and let's go you almost instantly." I replied, trying to be as helpful as I could. He was troubled, and looked to me as if he were about to end it all. He dropped the grape at his feet, and poured some olive oil on it. He turned and walked away, with olive oil in hand, and stood next to me, watching the grape. I watched too, hoping that there was a purpose to all this.

We waited for hours, and when night began to fall, I was about to curl up and fall asleep, when suddenly out of the shadows, appeared a beautiful young girl, perhaps seven or eight. She walked over to us, she was wearing a yellow dress with white flowers. Her face was covered with dirt, and she smelled of corpses as if she had woken up from her death. She took the grape and smiled at Stenreep, who nodded, signaling her to eat it. She did.

"Will it help?" She asked after she had swallowed.

"With pain, no? With grief? no." Stenreep answered, "but perhaps, it can give you hope."

"What sort of hope?" She asked, with her blue eyes that I couldn't escape from.

"The hope that life goes on." Stenreep responded. The girl moved to embrace him and cried tears that to me were all too familiar. For I had cried them. They were not tears of sadness, grief, or fear, but tears of joy, acceptance, and of love, something that cannot be described in words.

"I know it isn't what you wanted from me Marian," my brother answered, "but I hope you realize that you're not alone."

She nodded. Stenreep continued, "Your parents would've been so proud of you, I know I am."

"Thank you." Marian replied softly, letting go of her friend.

"For what?" said the mouse. I smiled, I already knew her answer. _"For saving my life."_ I mouthed it, she spoke it. She noticed me, I bowed. She turned back to the other.

"I have done nothing Marian, nothing except be your friend. I have saved you from nothing, no perils, no nightmares, and no tortures. I am just as useless as a flower when it comes to war. I am merely a doctor who has lost his equipment." I smiled again, for once again I knew her response. My mouth stood still this time.

"Your equipment my friend is your heart and your heart has saved me. That's all I ever wanted." Marian said.

"To be saved?" Stenreep asked.

"To be loved, to be someone's friend, to be a daughter to someone." Marian replied. My heart was breaking, her longing for home, for light in darkness, for hope. All of these things I realized were the very things I was searching for, and for some reason she saw all of this in the one I call Stenreep. I looked over at him, and understood. His smile, his disposition, his heart, which was open, his mind was clear. All of this could been seen from his humility, and by what he said next:

"I can never replace a parent, but I can certainly love you, and I can most definitely be your friend."

She started crying again. "Will I ever see them again?"

I nodded.

"Yes my dear," Stenreep replied, with a loving, heartwarming voice that almost made me tear up, "you shall see them one day. Until then they will never leave you, they will be like the sun, the stars, and the moon, always present, always watching, and always consistent."

She nodded once more, "Thank you." She stepped back into the shadow which she came, looking fearful of going back to the place she came from.

Stenreep smiled, "You'll be alright, don't be afraid." He said sensing her fear. "Never run from fear, for it does not exist. Never run from Death, for he does not prevail." Marian smiled and disappeared into darkness, and for a moment, I could sense that she was smiling.

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><p>Dawn arrived by that time and we had emerged onto the deck. The crew beginning to have breakfast, the same old thing, oats, wheat and fish. Oats, wheat and fish. Oats, wheat, and fish. Did I mention oats, wheat and fish? Because that's all there was. We ate the same damn thing every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I was getting tired of it.<p>

I escorted Stenreep to the line. He grabbed his plate and utensils, and stood there like everybody else, but when it got to be his turn to receive food he flinched and ducked a bit, as if he were afraid of it. He cowered behind his plate.

"Bitte Rühre mich nicht, ich werde, ich werde senden!" He cried.

What? I had no idea what was happening, but it doesn't take a genius to know that he was deathly afraid. The cooks were laughing at him as I approached. "It seems that you need to rub off on your relative there 'ey Reep!" They cried with hoots and hollers. Stenreep was shaking, he was bracing himself for a thrashing, his eyes were closed painfully tight and sweat poured from him. I gave a threatening stare towards the cook crew, and led Stenreep towards the stern of the ship.

He threw his plate and fork down on the ground as if he were angry at the world. He broke down right in front of me. This is where my sympathy stopped.

"No, you're not going to do that." I ordered, if there was one thing I absolutely hate is when people break down because of fear.

Stenreep just fell on the deck, and cried, "I'm sorry," he said to no one in particular. "I can't be there to save you." He turned over on his back and looked at the sky, "Kashmir!" He cried. Who? I thought he was delusional, perhaps the sea was getting to his head.

"Kashmir! Carry me, carry me, carry me!" He sat up, extended both arms as if he were praising something. He smiled and laughed hysterically, "You're dead!" He laughed again, this time louder with a deep bass.

Everyone turned towards our direction and stopped all conversation. I turned towards everyone who was expecting me to say something, but I can't be expected to say elegant speeches twenty-four seven now can I? Stenreep began babbling on about some sort of camp, as if it were the most interesting subject in the world. According to him it was pure torture. Literally. Everyone was malnourished, beaten to a pulp constantly, cussed at, pardon my French here, pissed on, forced into slavery, crying and death were commonplace, and everyone was gloomy. Then he said something that made everyone's heart break.

"The children's shoes. The mountain of them, rising higher than Olympus, the dead bodies, naked, defiled, and fear stricken, here is where the world ends. The train pulls in everyday, carrying more, the same number that come in are the same number that die. All of it for no reason." He looked at me, with big tearful eyes, "It's for no damn fucking reason at all!" He broke down at my feet, begging me either to end his life or to help start it. I choose the later.

I don't do embraces much, but I felt like I could make an exception for a broken soul who needing mending. I stood him up and hugged him, something that he probably hasn't felt in several years because he didn't know how to react. He just took it, and looked out onto the sea.

"Kashmir where did you go to?" He said.

I let go of him, having enough hugging to last me the rest of my life. "Who is that sir?" I asked, part in curiosity and part because if this Kashmir person could make him feel better, I would become desperate to find him, for there is only so much sadness and pity one could take.

"He is a bird," Stenreep answered, "a faithful friend, and-" he paused, the sound of splashing and thrashing in the water.

He quickly made his way over to the rail, climbing the small wall and standing on it, surveying the surrounding area. On starboard (the right side of the ship if one were facing the bow for all of you non-mariners) swimming, fighting or drowning, for it was difficult to tell with all the jerky movements this fellow was making, was an owl. To me it looked like he was doing all three.

"Die damn you!" The owl screamed.

Well I got the fighting part down.

He clawed and battered whatever it was that seemed to be keeping him in one place, and it seemed to be relatively easy for him to escape. Whatever it was that was holding him, it wasn't very strong and probably shouldn't have done anything in the first place. It was a useless attempt. He looked down at the sea, seeing for the first time what it was that was grabbing him. His face was unforgettable, regret consumed him and he plunged into the depths. I thought he was crazy.

"He's insane." I said aloud, "Owls aren't particularly known for their-" I was stopped in mid-sentence because this owl was not an ordinary owl. He surfaced, carrying in gently in his talons, the body of an unconscious man carrying a child in his free hand. They both appeared dead, I sure thought so.

The owl flew towards the ship, landing safely and as gently as he could. Stenreep jumped down from the railing and scurried over to the two seemingly lifeless souls. The bird stood over him.

"What do you need?" He asked.

"Dish rags, a bucket of cold water, soap, needle, thread, alcohol, gauze, and a bit of luck." Stenreep said.

The owl nodded and was off to make deliveries. The bird was completely helpless as the crew had stupefied faces to not lend a hand. I of course did, and grabbed what I knew I could. It took a while, but I managed to tow three dish rags, needle, thread, some gauze, and started praying that I was lucky.

The owl finally convinced Tavros, the minotaur, and Eustace of all people, to assist him. Together they grabbed the bucket of water, soap, alcohol, and each prayed that they were lucky.

When all the supplies were gathered, Stenreep started cleaning the wounds of the man and his child. It looked pretty hopeless.

"Are they dead?" Eustace asked.

Stenreep stopped his procedure, "I wouldn't jump to conclusions just yet."

He opened their eyes and looked at their pupils, they were moving, but just barely.

"Comrade," the owl said placing a wing on Stenreep's shoulder "it's over, I'm sorry."

Stenreep shook his head, "I sick of tired of death Kashmir!' He screamed, "If I could, believe me I would stop it."

"We all wish for those things sir." I said, I quickly realized that I shouldn't have said that.

Stenreep, looked at me. If rage had a definition, I was looking at it.

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT AGAIN!" He bellowed demonically. Apparently I messed with a switch, because he started advancing towards me as if he were about to kill me. I instinctively drew my blade, not really wanting to get into a duel, but it was just to be safe.

Stenreep laughed despicably, "I'm dreadfully sorry about this." He said, advancing and pulling out a curved sword. \

It was magnificent, silver, sharper than a dragon tooth, and could cut through a human leg. I knew. He was obviously a more trained hand than me, that or knew something I didn't, but that didn't necessarily stop me.

"Listen to me," I said, "there is something wrong with you, you're not yourself."

To be frank, I have never known this mouse to be himself, because all I ever saw him as was troubled. I knew that he was going through pain, some type of misery, and the suppression of these emotions were finally being spilled out onto the floor in front of me. He was just about to strike when Kashmir grabbed his back and pull him away back towards the presumed dead bodies, I sheathed my blade and saw Stenreep looking at the bird with all the malice in the world.

"Get out of my way!" He barked.

"No," Kashmir said shaking his head, "you aren't going to become one of them." He said, "I'm not going to let you fall."

Stenreep laughed, "Fall? I have already fallen!"

The owl raised a talon and struck him so hard to the head that Stenreep was bleeding on the deck less than two seconds later. Kashmir stood over him like a giant, about to crush and do him in. "The Germans have made you a mind slave now?"

Kashmir grabbed the mouse in his talons, which judging by the look of them have had years of target practice and were about to put those hard earned years to the test.

"Don't kill him." I said.

Kashmir looked at me, "Believe me I don't want to, but I might have to."

I nodded and produced my blade again, "Just be prepared to face me if you do."

"Why is that?" Kashmir answered.

"Marian." I said.

"Marian?" Kashmir looked at my friend with confused and hopeful eyes, "she's alive?"

Stenreep nodded. "She is."

Kashmir let him go, I still keep my blade handy, I wasn't about to let my guard down. Personally, I don't trust owls, or any bird for that matter, for obvious reasons. Just then the man whom I thought was dead slowly opened his eyes, as if the mention of Marian's name was the magic cure of his spell.

"M-m-Marian?" He stuttered and looked around, seeing if she was there.

Eustace looked over and immediately recognized him. "Godfather Henri?"

The man looked up and saw Eustace, smiled a bit, and knew he was safe. "Eustace!" He cried with all the strength he could muster.

Kashmir and Stenreep quickly moved out of the way to let Henri up. After which, Henri embraced his godchild. "It's been too long Eustace, far too long."

Eustace asked a rather stupid question, "How are you?"

As they were catching up on Eustace's boring life, and Henri's miserable one, I looked over to the child. He was a young boy of age seven, and by the looks of things he was undoubtedly dead. Stenreep checked his pulse. When he was finished he made a cross like symbol and hung his head. I removed my feather and bowed slowly and gave solemn rites: "_Take this child into your embrace, whatever war caused this, make it cease, let it be over and done with, and may all wars end justly."_

I lifted my head once it was finished, and noticed that Stenreep wasn't finished. His head was still bowed, his eyes were watered, but a tear did not fall.

I noticed that Eustace and Henri turned and noticed the commotion. Henri shook his head and fell to his knees next to me. He cried.

"Not Samuel," he cried underneath the tears. "Not him!" He wept, his salty grief got all over my fur, but I didn't care in the slightest. Here was a man who was grieving his eyes out and he was doing it all over me. I didn't move, I just let it take its course. Henri had every right to drown me out with tears, and I had every right to join him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II:**

The owl looked at Stenreep as Henri cried, and tried to calm him down with soothing words and prayer, but nothing seemed to help.

"You realize what you must do now?" The owl said.

Stenreep nodded, "I do Kashmir, I realized it long before and I realize now, the war with Germany must end, and it must end now."

"It's not that simple Tilden." The owl replied.

Tilden? I was a bit confused, then I put two and two together.

"I know it's not simple Kashmir," Tilden said.

"If it were that simple then Heinrich Himmler would have a pistol barrel at my throat." Tilden turned towards Henri's companion (whose name I'd later figure out was Mordecai), "We'll meet again in greener pastures." He said, closing the dear one's eyes. Eustace stopping wallowing in tears long enough to walk over to Tilden and Kashmir to say something illegible, I tried to listen in, but I just couldn't make it out. When he was finished speaking Tilden nodded his head, looked at me, and said nothing. To this day I have no idea what was said, and I have no idea what why Tilden looked at me like that, with sorrowful eyes, a painful soft sigh, and slight nod to the head, as if he could see my future, his, the world's, or all three, simply by the uttering of Eustace's illegible words.

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><p>Later that night, the wind was fierce as we approached the Long Islands. We were apparently going there looking for something, a sword is the rumor I heard. Tilden and Kashmir were welcomed right away as I knew they would be and Henri would leave us once we go to the Islands and make his way home somehow. I was sitting at the bow, thinking about the events of the day, like always did, when Kashmir came up behind me. He looked up at the stars, which were shinning in all their splendor.<p>

"I fear for him you know." He said.

"Who, Tilden?" I asked.

The owl nodded, "He's going senile."

"What do you mean?" I said, it didn't take long for me to answer my own question because all Kashmir had to do was step out of the way to reveal Tilden talking and arguing to himself. He spoke in two voices. A deeper, demonic voice, and the voice I was familiar with.

"Get out of my head!" Tilden practically screamed. A demonic laugh.

_"You're a miserable low life dog, who thinks he can save the fucking world with a fucking cattle rod!" _He walked towards Tavros, who was at the helm. _"I suspect that you-" _

"Need to get out of here." Tilden said, his true conscious taking control for a moment. Tavros was confused and didn't mind anything.

I turned towards Kashmir. "Is he dangerous?"

"He hasn't been so far." Kashmir said, "I've managed to keep him under control by singing a rather depressing lullaby."

A scream. We both looked over and Tilden was on the floor, failing and behaving like a wolf with rabies. Lucy was on the deck, brushing her hair with a comb and looking out on the water when Tilden came up from behind and stabbed her in the leg. She winced in pain and collapsed halfway to the floor. My head was flaming with demon fury but if that was the case, then Kashmir was corseting with the blood of all demons. He swooped down and pinned Tilden firmly in his talons. The mouse laughed.

_"Ha! You think you can stop me Kashmir? I'm going to establish New World Order. Hitler's Legion shall rise here too, wiping all you pitiful resistors off the face of existence!"_

Kashmir lifted his left talon and dug it in Tilden's face, moving in a semi-circular motion. Tilden screamed in pain and agony. When Kashmir lifted his talons all remained for Tilden's face were his organs, brain, tissue, muscles, blood, and bone. No familiar face, all of that was ripped to shreds and left on the deck and in Kashmir's deadly claw. Tilden screamed like a dying demon finally meeting his maker.

_"You fucking bastard! I'll make sure you suffer you bitch! You spineless, weak Jew, with your filth and disgusting perversion! I'll see you all suffer under the wrath of the Furher! Hail! Hail! Hail!"_

Kashmir leaned down and smiled almost as deviously as the devil himself. He spoke Russian.

I stared at him in awe from my post. I had no idea what he said, but I knew that it was to an evil person, Kashmir sure made it sound like it was. Luckily Kashmir was kind enough to translate for me afterwards: _"Now I know you're a demon, because my friend would never in his right fucking mind would pray to a godless snake who wears an innocent bloodstained flag on his arm. I suggest you clear out of here Baal, Balthazar, or Lucifer, before you are maliciously devoured."_

Kashmir moved his talon to strike Tilden again when suddenly Tilden's true conscious broke out. "Wait!" He cried, stopping the owl from killing him, even though he was half way to death anyway.

"Don't kill me Kashmir please, I, I," he started to break down again, these tears were heavier than the ones before, these tears were anguishing. If you have ever gone so deep into the ocean that you feel pressure in your ears and sharp pain in your head, that's on what these tears felt like. Lucy stood up and kneeled down next to the half dead mouse and owl, who in my opinion took things way too far.

Tilden smiled, "So, you'd sit next to a psychopathic loony box?"

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked.

Tilden's smile grew bigger, his heart inflated, his soul returning, whatever was there a moment ago had died away. "Your heart is more forgiving than mine, and your bravery even more so. I could snap again at any moment and yet you would still sit here with me. Why? Why care about someone like me?" Lucy sighed and looked up at me. I knew the answer, Tilden reminded her of me.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Correction Lucy, you don't want to see _me_ get hurt. You aren't that difficult to read my dear and frankly, you're talking bullshit to him but all the truth to me.

Tilden nodded, "I would be a fool to believe such things." He said, "Look at me, I'm a monster, a real life Quasimodo. You're just saying these things because it reminds you of Mister Reepicheep, which is only a natural human response, and to be honest, I'm quite content with it."

I'm not. If you say something you should mean it, not pretend that you do.

"You're right," Lucy said admitting to the fact. "you are hideous."

Thanks for making my friend feel better about himself.

"Thanks for making me feel better about myself." Tilden said, as if he were repeating my thoughts.

I jumped down from the bow and onto the deck, the damage was worse than I realized. Blood, guts, and tissue were everywhere, I was questioning how Tilden was still alive at this point. I looked at Kashmir who gave me a rather knowing smile, he was up to something. He placed his bloody talon on Tilden's face and inhaled some air. In an instant, all the gore was erased, all the evidence of misery gone, even the Henri's boy, whose body was still lying on the deck disappeared. It was like Kashmir was absorbing in everything, for he just kept on inhaling, his chest rising and rising and rising. When he was finished he held his breath, removed his talon and Tilden looked perfectly normal. Kashmir smiled, still holding his breath, and took to the air, flying over the water he exhaled and did a loop motion, creating a wind that seemed to blow all that which he inhaled away into the farther reaches of time and space.

Kashmir landed and Tilden stood with smug smile on his face. "I see someone has been practicing." Tilden said.

Kashmir laughed, "You know it."

"Remember the joke about the owl in the service?" Tilden asked, something about the way he said it made me question the reason why he said it. Obviously, it was going to be terrible, or possibly, not make sense at all. His smile, that wicked smile was returning, something was brewing inside of him, and it was about to overflow. Prepare for round two.

"No, never heard of it, go on and tell me." Kashmir answered.

Tilden very expectedly jumped up onto the rail, I thought he was about to a scrimmage match, when he did something that I believe to be the craziest thing he could ever do. Kashmir followed his friend with his watchful gaze, he had seen this before, and was prepared for it.

"Tilden," he said, "don't do what I think you're about to do."

Tilden nodded with a demonic stare, the devil was back. _"Oh don't worry Kashmir, I'll be sure to treat him warmly."_ Tilden raised his sword in the air, and stabbed himself in the gut. The demon inside of him laughed, _"Remember the joke about the owl in the service?" _

"No." Kashmir answered, his eyes blazing with passion, I had the urge to kill Tilden myself, just to get it over with and so we wouldn't have to deal with this anymore. I can have a devious side, and I realized that when it comes out, it tends to stay out for a while, longer than it should. I'm not proud of it, but I have come to accept it, and am at the present, learning to control it.

The owl got into what I assumed to be his 'I'm going to beat you down to the ground' stance. Tilden laughed, _"He died during flight. Isn't that funny?" _He laughed and let himself freefall from the ship. Lucy tried to catch him but he fell out of reach before she could. I rushed over, jumped over the railing and almost jumped when Kashmir did it first. He jumped high into flight and dove straight down into the water like a speeding arrow. Lucy and I scanned the water back and forth.

"Do you see anything?" She asked.

"It's too dark." I answered, about to jump in when I saw something that I would never forget, a green mist coming from the water.

It surfaced, Kashmir flew up, spinning as he did so, drying himself off. The mist engulfed him, and when he stopped spinning, he floated, like a celestial being walking on the mist, his golden eyes captured the mists green glow, as if he were the physical embodiment of the mist itself. A voice was heard.

"Kashmir!" It was Tilden.

"What is it comrade?" The owl asked.

"Save me, I don't want to die in here. You have to save me."

Kashmir nodded, "I will my friend, I can promise you-" he didn't finish his sentence. Instead he was met with the sword of his friend, but an eerie green one, it's owner was obvious.

"I don't think you'll be given the chance to Kashmir."

The owl screamed in pain, the toll of war now showed on his face, he had a broken soul, that was inhabiting an owl with broken wings. Kashmir looked at me, with all the pain and weariness he carried, "Save him." He murmured.

The mist receded into the air as if it were never there and Kashmir fell into the ocean. Leaving me heartbroken, speechless, and confused.

Lucy looked at me, "So what are you going to do?" She asked.

"I'm going to save him," I answered, "I don't know how yet, but believe me I will save him."

"Why?" Lucy asked, somewhat skeptical of me.

"Have you ever looked into someone's eyes and see their struggle? Have you ever felt the pain of the world? Have you ever listened to someone's heart break?"

I began to tear up, it was too sad and emotional even for me to handle, "Have you ever seen a girl take a mere grape and nothing more! Have you ever just stood there and watched, feeling helpless as the world ends?"

Lucy nodded her head.

"Then you know exactly what I'm talking about." I left it at that, turned and retreated to my quarters for some much needed sleep. That night I dreamt about two things: how to save my friend, and how to avenge Kashmir, the only one who seemed to know Tilden better than he could himself. I certainly couldn't think of anybody else who could do that, known someone better than themselves, and I prayed for some type of answer, a hope, a sign, anything. I can tell you this, for the first time in my life, I felt helpless.

If you don't know what that feels like, it's the most empty and maddening feeling in the world. It eats the brain and destroys everything else. Your soul cries, your heart questions everything, and your brain just gives up. You must press on. You have to. Helplessness doesn't last, and I'm glad it doesn't, because you can always help someone get through something. Not to sound self-righteous, but it feels nice to know that you're needed, to know that you can do something about it. That's all I have to say about it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III:**

The next morning, I woke up as usual, Eustace was below me as always and my fellow comrades were sleeping soundly. I was always the first one up. Every morning at first light, habits never die I guess. I hopped down from my cot and walked up to the deck to look at the ocean and warm up my fur, like I did every morning, but I was greeted by Henri, who was standing on the plank as if were about to jump.

He was shaking, like a madman who was about to snap. I walked up silently behind him, my plan was to talk him out of it, like anybody, but I ended up doing something else.

"Kashmir is dead isn't he?" Henri said in a low monotone voice.

I nodded, knowing that he wasn't looking in my direction, "He is."

Henri cried as if he were mourning a saint. "He was my last and only hope!" He screamed to the ocean, who replied with the waves crashing against the ship.

"No he wasn't." I said.

Henri turned his head to me, "W-w-what did you say?"

I walked over to him as non-threateningly as I could, "There is never a last hope, for hope is always there, you just have to look for it."

Henri smiled, "You sound just like Tilden, no wonder he's your brother." He said.

"He's not really my-" I started to say, then I remembered that I was talking to a man who was thinking of the end. One thing you never do is say anything negative. I stopped and corrected myself. "Of course sir."

"Can you promise me something?" Henri asked. I looked up at him, finding a light at the end of this grave and sad tunnel I nodded.

"It would be cruel of me not to accept any promise you ask of me at this point." I said.

"Promise me that you won't stop me." Henri said.

My heart sank, my whiskers and tail drooped. I reluctantly nodded and began to cry. Something else you should never do. Cry in front of people who are in this state. It makes them feel worse about themselves and more prone to go through with it.

"Why!" I said, in a not screaming or shouting voice, but in a voice that begged him to reconsider.

"I'm tired sir," Henri said, "I'm tired of living a life of fear, I'm tired of always getting stepped on and beaten. I'm tired, so very tired. I would rather die feeling free than die feeling miserable."

I shook my head, "There is always a way out." I looked up at him, not caring if my eyes were wet.

"Think of the boy, think of your friends, think of all the sorrow you'll cause them. You say that you're tired of being stepped on, beaten, and living in fear. If you do this, they will feel the same way I assure you, the same piled on with severe grief and loneliness. Please, let's talk about this."

Henri shook his head. "I don't want to."

I nodded, understanding if that was his choice he best do it quickly. I spoke, the last words he would ever hear. The crew began to come up, and they all saw Henri standing up on the plank, every single one of them was afraid, fearful that he would actually jump. I was hoping that Eustace wouldn't see this.

"I hope you find your peace then." That was the best I could come up with, since there was no convincing him otherwise.

"Do you have any last wishes that you would want me to carry out?" I asked.

Henri nodded, "Kill me."

I shook my head, "No, I couldn't do that."

"Then take care of the boy." Henri said.

I nodded, "That I will gladly do."

"Teach him everything his father couldn't." Henri added as he began to teeter and sway. I wasn't going to let him go out like this, if I could help him, then I would. I walked out onto the plank, I untied his shoelace, go on top of his shoe, laid down and tied myself up, doing the knot perfectly and tightly. Henri looked down at me and I looked up at him.

"You're not alone sir. You never were." I saw that the crew made for the plank, in attempts to save me. I stared at them coldly, they backed off. I had a plan to this, and I had to make it work fast before Henri set us both to our graves.

"Listen to me, you can make it out of this, you survived this long. Prove all those torturers and beaters wrong by living again, that would be the ultimate victory now wouldn't it?" Henri closed his eyes, I prepared myself.

"Listen to me Henri, turn around." He did so. "Walk backwards towards the ocean." I instructed, he did walk backwards, towards the ship. He staggered a bit, and almost went over when Lucy and Edmund quickly rushed over and let him fall into their arms, they gently sat him down, on the deck. Water was poured all over him to make him believe that was actually doing it. I untied myself quickly and quickly retied his shoe. Henri opened his eyes as I stood on his torso. He cried.

"It's alright sir," I said, "you're safe."

Henri embraced and almost chocked me. I'm not much of a hugger, but if anyone needed one, it was Henri. I embraced him back.

"Is this heaven?" Henri asked, he believed that he was actually dead and that I had died with him.

"That depends on who you ask." I said looking at Lucy and Edmund for assistance.

They helped Henri up and he let me go, Edmund caught me in mid fall. Henri looked at me and smiled, "Thank you."

I nodded with a slight bow of the head, "You will never be alone, I can promise you that." Edmund kindly sat me down on the deck.

Henri looked down at me and smiled up at him. "You look just like him, Tilden, you have his smile."

"I'll take that as a compliment." I replied.

"Interesting for someone who only knew him to be broken." Henri said, walking over to the railing again. I thought he was going to make a second attempt, but we had gotten to his head and didn't thank goodness.

"How did it happen exactly?" I asked walking over to him. Henri sighed, I could tell this was going to be a long story.

"Tilden wasn't always this way," Henri began, "he wasn't always a broken soul. It just happened that way. War does those kind of things." He turned around and sat on the deck, getting closer to my eye level so I wouldn't have to strain.

"It all started three years ago, the war in Germany was going strong like a wild fire. Consuming everything and everyone, from the wives and daughters, to the sons and fathers. There wasn't a single person who didn't feel its effects. Anyway, Tilden Wavell came in on a train, just like the rest of us."

He pulled out a small journal that was in his pocket. "Tilden gave me this about a year ago, it's his journal." He handed it to me.

The exterior was leather, and the pages were worn and beginning to yellow. There was a red ribbon whose end hung freely in the wind as the rest of it was bound between the pages. I opened it to the ribbon and saw a date: January 6th, 1942.

"Will this suffice?" I asked, hinting that Henri wanted me to read it. Henri looked at the journal and nodded.

"It will. Please." He said. I nodded, cleared my throat and began reading.

"January 6th, 1942. I am on a train bound for Poland, I do not know where in the country or why, but I know that it isn't good..."

_I've heard rumors of the place. Some say it's a camp, some say once you get there, you won't come back. I honestly don't know what I believe. I look around and see darkness. The smell of feces and urine is unbearable. I suspect that typhus, flu, and cholera will be commonplace._

_At night there are cries of sorrow. A small percentage of kindness can do wonders, but the world has forgotten what that means, and has resorted to the lowest form of human hate. I sing lullabies to the children who cannot sleep and say comforting words to hopeless parents. At the moment, this is the best medicine I can conjure up, until I can start my secret war against the Germans. If anyone, by mere chance finds this journal, know that the author is a doctor, and I give counseling appointments. You're going to need them after this, because this dear reader, isn't going to be a happy story..._

"But rather a story of resistance and perseverance that must be told. Sincerely, Tilden Wavell, PhD." I stopped reading and closed it. I was bewildered, and inspired to find him even more so than before.

"He's trying to save you?" I asked.

Henri nodded, "I am the last escapee, Tilden and Kashmir helped me and my little friend escape. There were others, but I do not know where they are or if they're alive or not."

I nodded, part sympathy, part understanding. "I pray that they are safe." Henri leaned his head back, resting on the wooden rail. He closed his eyes and started singing what seemed to be a hymn. _"We walk the streets of silence. We sleep when all are dead. We watch and wait to see, a just and noble end." He took a quick breath and in a deeper voice, sang his heart out. "For years we having been yearning, ten thousand years we prayed! To see a new tomorrow, please end this violent day. Deliver us Oh Moses, save us from the night! Deliver us, Oh Moses, and stop this endless fight."_

Eustace, who heard the song, rushed over to his side. "No Henri, don't sing that song."

"What, what's wrong with it?" I asked, growing a bit concerned, for the boy looked like he was about to cower in fear.

"It means that the Germans are coming."

"How could he possibly know that they're-" I started to say when Eustace cut me off, and looking back, I was proud of him. "He knows, believe me, he knows, it's like a gut feeling or something."

Still the old man pushed on.

_"The darkness calls for you now, the sin is far too great! There's no chance for our redemption. They scream every day. For we are all misguided, the shepherd's gone away. His flock left to the wolves now. Death knolls will ring today."_ Heavy footsteps, militant and menacing approached. The crew looked on each of them keeping their eyes on this heavy stepper. He wore a black uniform, with gold buttons and a red flag on his shoulder. He also dawned a hat and at his side was a pistol.

Henri stopped his song and looked over, his face spoke of fear. "H-H-H-H-Heinri-ri-ri-rich H-H-H-H-Him-Him-Himml-l-ler."

The man in the uniform smiled and laughed. "Hello Henri," he said in a heavy accent that I could not necessarily place. "are you ready to go back to your place?"

Henri shook his head. "No, I don't want to go anywhere with you!"

"Too bad." Himmler pulled out his pistol and walked towards Henri with an evil stride. I stood in between the two of them.

"I would think twice before placing a bullet in his head!" I warned.

Himmler laughed, "So, Tilden wants to play?" I laughed to myself. _Good_, I thought, _he's thinks I'm the other one. This should be fun. _I got into my first position. "Psychopaths first." I said with a smile. Himmler aimed his pistol and was about to fire when my faithful crew members came to my aide. The wonders of friendship right? Every single one of them pulled out their weapon, be a bow, or a sword, or an axe, or simply their trained fists, everyone was in defense. Himmler nodded and put his pistol away.

"Like I said, think twice before you place a bullet in his head." I reiterated. Himmler nodded again and turned about, walking back the way he came, only to quickly turn around, pull out his pistol and fire it in Henri's direction. There was no reaction time. The moment Himmler fired and the moment the bullet hit Henri were almost simultaneous. I looked at Henri, and noticed that he was still breathing, but barely. Himmler laughed. I turned slowly, producing my blade. "You didn't think twice." I said, throwing my sword in the bastards leg. He screamed and took a knee. I ran over to him, eyes flaming with all the hatred I could muster for someone. I grabbed the hilt of my blade and ripped it from his body. The destruction of bone, tissue, and the death of a limb made my inner demon laugh with amusement. Himmler smiled and his body disintegrated into the mist from the night before. He laughed as he took his true form.

"Whatever hope you have," Himmler said, in a demonic voice, "I suggest you lose it, because it will not save you." He disappeared.

Henri was bleeding on the deck, Eustace tried to help him up, Tavros took him down below in the quarters. When he could no longer see his godfather, Eustace looked at me, as if I caused this.

"Why didn't you do anything!" He shouted. He looked around and repeated himself. "You all just stood there, why didn't you do anything!"

"I know what you're feeling right now, believe me I know it hurts, I know." I said trying to make things easier. It didn't help. He collapsed in a bowing position, but he wasn't praising or exalting anyone.

"He's all I have left, he can't die."

I walked over to him. "He won't," I sighed, I was about to say two words that I would never say if I couldn't actually keep them true.

Eustace was crying his eyes out, Lucy and Edmund tried to comfort him with words, "It's going to be alright." and "We'll get through this." For they were hurting just as much, they were just good at hiding it, which isn't always a good thing. They led him down to the Captain's quarters, which was on the deck level. I watched them enter the room and shut the door. The rest of the crew went about their business.

Caspian came up to me, "Do you know what's going on?"

I sighed, I didn't turn to him, just looked out onto the ocean, the wind blew, the sun was in the sky, the world was oblivious. "The end of all hope and the beginning of all fear, Your Majesty. I pray you don't fall under the easy trap, because it is difficult to get out of, and I don't think I will be able to open it to free you."

Caspian said nothing, there was nothing he could say, I turned and looked at him over my shoulder, for the first time in his life I think, he saw on what fear looked like. I know, because I was wearing the most fearful face in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV:**

The following day, the Lone Islands came into view. We were headed there initially to wipe out an resistance, because apparently there were still those loyal to Miraz. As the longboats were being prepared, I went down below deck to check on Eustace and Henri. I entered the quarters quietly as Eustace was on his knees, hunched over the bed Tavros placed him in. Tavros was sitting beside him silent as stone. I didn't have to say anything, Tavros just looked at me, stood and walked out without a word. I waited until he left to approach Eustace any further. He spoke first.

"If you're so great, then why didn't you do something?" He turned to me, his eyes flaring. "Why didn't you fucking do something you stuck up little prick!"

I stepped back a bit, admittedly scared of him for a moment. His voice was a fallen angel, grieving over his mistake. "I know you're upset but there's no need to-"

"I don't care!" He grabbed the sheets that were covering his grandfather and threw them violently towards me. "Why didn't you do something to save him?"

"Believe me I did everything I could Eustace, you must understand he was-" I started to say, raising my voice a little.

"You stood there Reepicheep." He took a stride forward, and leaned into my face. "You fucking stood there, while he lay there dying like a dog."

"You have a terrible memory." I said, sighing, trying to keep my composure. "In case you forgotten," I said turning and walking away from him, "it was the bullet that killed him."

"Yes, a bullet you did nothing to stop." Eustace said.

"Will what was I supposed to do!" I turned towards him, "Jump in front of the damned thing?"

He looked at me, that's exactly what he wanted to happen. "I wish that it was you. It should've been you."

I nodded, taking in painfully true words. Eustace circled around me, as if he were a wolf, taunting his prey. Guess which one I was.

"Do you know what it's like, having to have never known someone, the only person who really gave a damn about you?"

I shook my head, my extended family, particularly the males had all died before I was born, so I had no idea what he was feeling, but I'd imagine that would be the same with any loss.

Eustace stopped circling. "He was the only one who sent my birthday presents, even in camps, he managed to take care of me. I saw him maybe three times before the war, and now that there's peace time, he's gone."

"A last martyr of men." I said.

"He isn't and isn't a martyr!" Eustace raised his voice, "He isn't going to be a martyr, martyrs only happen to saints and soldiers in war. He wasn't a soldier!"

"Yes he was Eustace." I said, in the most sympathetic way possible.

"Don't you get it, he didn't fight for anything, he never picked up a weapon in his life. He never did anything wrong to anybody, he was someone who was kind and gentle, and now he's dead."

He walked over to his cot and looked over at his godfather and cried. "He's dead."

Eustace grabbed his pillow and began to beat it, his heart was bigger than his head, "He's dead! He's fucking dead!"

He started screaming uncontrollably, he threw the pillow on the floor and started ruffling the sheets and threw them down too, he then attacked his belongings. Pulling out his notebook and ripping it's pages, I saw a writer destroy his work, a poet ruin his songs, and all I could do was scream his name.

"Eustace!" I yelled trying to get his attention, but he just kept on going on his grief rampage. He stood up and walked to every single bunk and began destroying everything he could. Bed sheets, personal belongings, the crew was not going to be happy about this later. He finally found a knife in a satchel and wielded it. I watched him carefully as he walked over to his grandfather's place and I quickly followed him.

"Eustace!" I said again, raising my voice to its highest limit. The boy's eyes were flaming mad, he raised his knife and stabbed Henri's body.

"Why," he stabbed him once, "did," twice, "you," a third. I climbed onto the cot again.

"Eustace!" I said again, this time with less volume.

The boy looked at me and instantly broke down. I thought he was going to just cry, but I was wrong, he screamed his head off and prepared for destructive round two. He lifted his head, raised his knife again and almost stabbed me, but luckily I moved out of the way, and stabbed Henri gain. "Why did you leave me here alone!" His hands began sweaty, and I began to feel the weight of his grief. I couldn't stand the pain any longer. He lifted his knife again and once again stabbed the body, "What am I going to do? I'm all alone now!"

I shook my head and placed my paw on his shoulder. He looked up at me. "Oh God, what am I going to do!" He sobbed. He embraced me as anyone would, and drowned me in his tears.

"It's alright, it's alright," I said, trying to be as fatherly as I could. I never knew my father, and this boy was never loved before by anyone expect this man who now lay dead before us. "I'm here, you're safe."

"I'm afraid Reepicheep." Eustace said.

"Let me cast that fear out." I replied.

"I'm afraid that I'm going to die like him." He said.

"Let me be the one who stands in death's way. For I will not let you go."

Eustace held me tighter, "I want to go home."

I sighed and nodded, a tear began to fall from my face, it landed softly on his shoulder. "I shall lead you wherever your heart calls home. If it be the stars, so be it. No measure is too great, no distance is too far. I shall walk the road with you that leads you there."

Eustace let me go and sat me down next to him. I smiled, "I swear it, on my life if need be, that you shall see home."

Eustace nodded, for the first time he trusted me. He stood up and walked back up to the deck. I smiled as I watched him ascend. "Never run from Fear, for he does not exist. Never run from Death, for he does not prevail."

I looked over at the godfather's body and bowed my head in respect for a moment, smiled and said, "The stars call you now, fly on, fly on, fly on!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V:**

We were loaded in the lifeboats. Four to a boat, and each man was armed to the teeth, except for Eustace, who claims to be pacifist but I told him as we boarded, "Although it is a noble ambition, it is never a permanent one."

He looked at me, "Of course it can be permanent, I can choose whether I want to fight or not, and I choose to not do anything. Let the wars, battles, quarrels, what have you sort themselves out with me."

"What if your friends were in danger, would you help them?" I asked, giving him a 'please answer this in the way I want you to' look.

"It depends on whether they got into trouble themselves. If so, then no, I wouldn't help them." He said.

"I'm sorry," I replied, not believing what I just heard. "Did you say, right now, that you would rather become an asshole than an abettor?"

Eustace said nothing.

"It shouldn't matter whether they got into trouble or not. They're still your friends, and if you were a good one, you would most definitely help them. I can tell you that if you were in trouble, there would be no hesitation, not a single qualm in my mind, I would help you. Even if it means bleeding out and dying in your place. That's how much I care. That's how far I would go for you." I said.

Eustace just stared at me as if he were having some type of realization. At least, that's what I thought he was doing. He could've been thinking about anything, food, sleep, hell, fishing even. Honestly I didn't know what to make of his facial reaction, but I could tell it involved some type of thinking.

"Eustace," I said, a bit concerned for he seemed to be frozen. I waved my hand in front of his face. "Eustace." I repeated, he continued with a blank, emotionless expression. I called his name again, the third time around he turned directly at me and spoke.

"Why?" He asked.

I was about to ask the obvious question when he said it first. "Why would you do that for me, no one has ever done anything for me before, so why would you?"

I thought about three things: Henri, the boy that was with him, and Tilden's tattoo. "Eustace," I said. "I would do anything for you, no, that's not right, I _will_ do anything for you. Anything to get you home, believe me I will do it." I paused. "It's not because I pity you, it's because you didn't ask for this. You didn't ask for your godfather to die before your eyes, and you didn't ask to be here. I know people will say that you'll learn something. You will, you'll learn something, but if there is one thing I will teach you, it's how to be a friend. So, I say again, if your friends were in danger, would you help them?"

Eustace looked out towards the water, thinking about his answer. He would never tell me.

We arrived on shore, every single person was up and out as soon as the bilge of each boat hit the sand. I jumped down and felt the beach, it's warm sand, it's overall calmness between my foot paws. It was glorious, for the first time in months we were on shore. Too bad it had to be spent doing something brutish. I looked around a bit, and noticed that the only one who wasn't on the beach yet was Eustace. He just sat there, looking like he was about to soil himself.

"Need some help?" I asked as I laughed in my head. "No, I can get out of a boat myself." Eustace replied as he very timidly walked towards the lifeboat's bow. It shook and wobbled fiercely as if it were about to capsize...on land. Unfortunately, he fell, face first into the sand because he tripped over well, himself. I sighed, shook my head, a bit embarrassed, mostly because I self-assumed responsibility for him, and the whole crew knew about it. Standing up and shaking himself off, Eustace walked towards the rest of the crew, waiting to be instructed.

"Eustace." Caspian said, "Help with provisions." The boy nodded and started scanning the beach for anything, I already knew my job, provisions, and gave the clueless boy from Cambridge a few tips on how to find suitable supplies. We walked along in north along the beach.

"You want to sure that if it's a fruit, that it's ripe. If it's a plant, that it's edible, and if it's anything else, like a tool or something that can be converted into one, that it's suitable enough to be used. Simplicity in itself." I said, with an encouraging smile and very hopeful eyes.

"I don't know if I can-" Eustace started to say.

I stopped him, "How do you know when you haven't even tried yet? I once taught a young eager badger how to use a sword once, and he said to me the exact same thing, in the exact same way, giving the exact same 'I hate the entire world and I just want to be left alone for the rest of my life' expression that you're giving right now."

Eustace huffed, I smiled, slightly amused and continued whether he wanted me to or not.

"He turned out to be the best swordsman in his clan, ended up becoming chief and is now my best friend." I said, finishing the story.

"Who was he?" Eustace asked.

"Trufflehunter." I answered, in a proud way, for indeed if there was any greater friend to be had other than Trufflehunter, I wouldn't want him, because that badger is all anyone could ever ask and need for.

* * *

><p>Eventually Eustace went off a little ways to gather some fruits and greens while I started gathering tools, weapons, and other miscellaneous objects. As I was collecting some sea shells (for they can be used for many things), I heard the sounds of fighting. Tooth and claw, stabbing, thrashing, and finally screaming. I stopped and listened for anything else. Nothing. I shrugged and continued my work when it happened again, this time it was slightly different, for I could hear voices, one of them sounding vaguely familiar.<p>

_"Please, don't hurt me!"_ A voice of pleading and suffering.

"You're going to bleed and suffer for what you've done!" A menacing evil shout, like that of a demon. The crack of a whip. The cry for help. I stood for the second time helpless. I wanted so badly to end this suffering, this torture, for whoever this poor was, but I knew that this person would be dead by the time I reached the call. I started to breathe abnormally, my tail swished back and forth in the sand, mimicking the sound of the waves wanting me to do something. If my tail could speak I'd imagine it would say something like_, "Oh go on Reepicheep, you can do something about this. You can save someone's life, you can be a hero. If you just stand there like a teetotaler then I will have nothing to say to you, for I will not serve a dishonorable mouse!"_ But that would be ridiculous.

The cries for help turned into a name as fate would have it, a name that I was familiar with, an alias. In a soft innocent cry was the name, "Tilden!"

I dropped my task and ran off into the direction of the cries. I can tell you now that I have never ran so fast and so long in my entire life. By the time I located the source of the call, which was thankfully only a mere two minutes, my lungs were about to burst from exhaustion, but my fatigue did not compare, even in the slightest, to what I saw before me.

It was Marian. Her blood was on the ground, scattered like an impassable cursed sea. Her body was mangled in itself, legs touching the head, arms stretched out in front, pleading for forgiveness. I walked over to her, walking around her body to see if she was still breathing, or alive. When I got to the front I looked up and noticed her head was looking up towards the sky, submitting to her fate, wanting to be a traveler of distant places, peaceful places, where the world stops turning, time stops ticking, and all materials fade away. A place where nothing is held back, a place where acceptance into loving arms is daily. This was her dream, and the dream of most creatures I suspect, myself included, to one day be an angel.

There were no signs of the persecutor, no weapon, everything was evidence.

"What have we fallen to?" I said aloud to no one, "What madness must we encounter to do this?"

I turned towards the ocean. The sun shimmered on the water, the wind made the trees sway and lead the leaves into waltzes. I watched as two very particular ones, a brown leaf and an orange leaf, both from the same tree began to fall after their performance. Like gentle feathers, they made their way towards the ground, in a beautiful display they landed on top of each other, like two souls meeting, embracing lovingly after a long time away. The wind picked up, the leaf on the top, the orange leaf, took to the wind like a sail. The leaf on the bottom, the brown one, appeared to follow but fell back down to Earth, landing at my feet.

* * *

><p>Fighting and families ruined. That's on what happened next. The only thing I can remember was the Captain of the ship coming up to me and informing me of the situation. He told me that Caspian and the party had been kidnapped by slave traders and that Eustace somehow got in the mix.<p>

"Well," I said, "we have little time to waste now don't we?"

The Captain nodded and told me of a plan he had been conjuring in his 'I think I'm too smart to be doing this job' type head of his. When he was finished he turned and for the first time noticed the girl.

"Who was she?" He asked, his face calm, unmoved by death, as if he'd seen worse, which would've been a lie. I didn't answer, but merely casted my eyes to the ground, walked back towards the boats, and patted him gently as I passed. I imagined that the Captain looked at me, with worry, fear, or some other conflicting emotion that clashed with his anger for letting his guard down, allowing half the crew to be imprisoned.

I turned back towards him, "You coming Captain?"

He nodded and followed, thinking in his mind, _he knows something, he knows what happened to her, and he knows that he can't stop it. _That is correct Captain. I know what happened, I know who did this, the person who defiled that poor girl, I know exactly who it is, it's completely obvious. I also know this- I cannot stop it. I'm beginning to question whether I should even try. If I should continue with these promises. That wouldn't be like me at all would it Captain. Or would it?

The Captain and I met with the remaining crew and flanked the place. It was a brilliant plan. A few of us would go in, infiltrate the facility and set free Caspian, Edmund, and whoever else was there. The main party would go in from behind and catch the traders by surprise. It was practically foolproof, except for a few small details.

As we walked into the courtyard, I was on the Captain's shoulder, concealing myself underneath his hood. Looking around, the ground was an arid desert, there were rows upon rows of houses, sand brick and thatched roofs. In the middle of this courtyard, I noticed a line of chained prisoners, about fifty people long. Slaver traders were on horses, and more people, women and children mostly, were being loaded into carts. All I could think about was the small excerpt from Tilden's journal, _The saddest thing in the world, is seeing the world forsake its people. A small percentage of kindness can do wonders, but the world has forgotten what that means. _

We walked causally and calmly up to a man on his horse. He was brawny, built for war, scars on his face, this man has seen the world, slain many men with his sword, and isn't afraid to show it. His horse looked very proud of himself, almost as if he were smiling directly at me.

"What are you doing here?" The man on horseback asked.

The Captain cleared his throat, "I am here to-"

"Release the prisoners you slithering, poisonous serpent!" A voice bellowed.

The horse-rider looked around. "Who said that?" He asked, in a voice that was loud enough for the world to hear. Nothing. Complete silence.

The slicing of a neck, the crushing of a bone, the death of slave trader. His neck ran with the speed of a waterfall, his head moved down, resting on his body. Through the neck was a very familiar talon. I looked at the assassin and saw Kashmir, hovering in the air, flapping his wings and looking at his kill in disgust.

"No more deals for you." He said, his Russian accent showing. He looked at me with a smile, "Good to see you old friend."

I jumped down from the Captain's shoulder and took a few steps. I looked around and noticed that everyone was shocked, stupefied, every single person was frozen.

"Shall we dispose of them?" I asked the owl, who replied with a rather vicious laugh.

"Just like old times eh Tilden?" Kashmir said.

"It's Reepicheep." I reminded him.

"Right," the owl said swooping down towards the chain, "Sorry."

"Quite alright," I said as I headed toward the other traders. "if I'm going to be mistaken, it might as well be someone who's noteworthy."

Kashmir smiled as he grabbed part of the chain with his talons. "To be fair," he said, "you two do look alike." He looked at the prisoners, particularly Lucy and Eustace, "Don't move alright."

They both nodded. The owl pulled, tugged, and heaved with all his strength and ability. Slowly but surely the seemingly endless chain started to break from individual shackles. The prisoners even started a chant.

"Pull! Pull! Pull!"

His veins pulsed and his heart pounded like a war drum. His entire body was screaming for him to end this seemingly pointless escapade. Still he pressed on. The slave traders saw what he was doing and started whipping him. Crack. Kashmir winced. Crack.

"Give up!" The trader cried.

Kashmir shook his head. Crack. Kashmir screamed, an agonizingly painful one but nevertheless he still fought. His wings frustrated the wind and sand, making a bit of dust. I turned, stopped running in my direction, and saw many of the crew come to the bird's aide but it was too late. Kashmir was beaten to the ground, he stopped flying, he stopping fighting. His talons still wrapped in the chain.

"What's the matter birdie? Too much for you to take?" The trader with the whip asked with a despicable laugh. Kashmir was bleeding in the face, back, and wings. His eyes were on fire, his soul was burning with passion. He was not finished yet until a slave trader motioned to pull a bow. Luckily, Tavros punched him in the back of his head, knocking him out cold. The trader with the whip looked at the Minotaur who said:

"Want to try anything?"

The trader shook his head and sped off. Tavros walked over to Kashmir, kneeled down and carefully tended to his wounds by patting them down with a cloth that he always kept wet. "It's alright," Tavros said, "you don't have to pull anymore."

I rushed back over, the owl turned towards me. The prisoners looked to the owl as well, frankly everyone did. Kashmir closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Duck." He said as he took to the air and pull again. The large chain began to go with him, it started to break from the shackles. The prisoners watched him as he rose up. The owl shook his feathers clean of the dust and continued slowly upward. Suddenly, a trader with a bow was on the roof. Silently he readied himself. I was the only one who saw him, and not wanting to attract attention, ran over to the building and scaled the wall. The creaking of metal and steel. The chain was becoming looser. I was halfway up the wall when, _whoosh_. I looked at Kashmir, an arrow was in his back, but he braved on. The crew looked up and couldn't see the archer, but I knew where he was.

He was on the roof, taking a knee, hiding from view from everyone else except for me. I stood on top of the roof just as the archer was about to fire another arrow. He looked at me and smiled as he readied himself. I walked towards him, blade extended and stabbed him in the leg. The archer screamed. Despite my efforts, the arrow fired and hit the mark. Almost too perfectly. The arrow struck Kashmir in the back of the head. I turned and saw him. He floated there for several moments, like an angel. The sun shone on his face, the world was his. He was, for seven seconds, in the air. He fell to the ground, landing face first in the dirt. I looked down at him, the crew looked at me.

"What are you going to do to me?" The archer asked.

I turned back towards him, "Absolutely nothing sir."

"What?" The archer said confused. "Why is that?"

"It isn't my place." I replied as I sheathed my sword, "I despise you, but I will not kill you."

I walked towards the edge of the roof. "You killed someone that understood more than anyone the importance of humility, sacrifice, and service."

The archer stood up and leaned over. He looked down and understood, tears fell down his eyes, "What have I done?" He said crying his eyes, his fear exposing itself to the world.

"I'll tell you what you've done," I said, turning towards him. "You killed my friend, butchered him with a wooden shaft and steel. Did you see him? Do you know what he was doing?" The archer shook his head. "He was taking the weights of this generation in his talons and bringing relief to a war weary people. You killed that relief. Congratulations. I hope you're happy and can live with that for the rest of your life."

I turned and jumped down from the roof, landing safely in the arms of Tavros. The archer looked down and was searching for me. "I don't think I'll be able to!" He called. "I'm sorry!" He bent down, and cried to the world, "I'm sorry!" He screamed again.

I looked up at the archer, and for a moment, I thought I could picture Kashmir. He flew up to the archer, placed his wing on him in forgiveness. The archer stopped crying for a moment and looked up at the sky. Kashmir flew over him, like a graceful dove, telling the archer through his movement that it was going to be okay and that mercy had arrived for him. The owl looked at me in a disheartened look. I shivered. I don't know if I imagined this or if I actually saw it, but to me at least, it was real.

Rather my logical conscious agrees with me on this matter is something I'll have to deal with later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI:**

We returned to the ship, for some reason everyone was silent, as if they had just witnessed death. I looked around, everyone was staring at me. "Why are you all looking at me as if I had just died?" I asked.

"Wasn't the owl your friend?" Tavros asked.

I nodded, "He was," I felt a wing on my shoulder. I turned and I saw Kashmir, glowing like the sun. I knew I wasn't imagining this because Tavros saw this too. He knew better than I that this owl was someone to be revered, he kneeled. I simply stayed put, looking at his splendor, he spoke.

"Reepicheep, Tilden would like to speak with you." He said.

"Speak with me?" I asked. "Where is he?"

Kashmir stepped to one side and revealed the mouse. It was remarkable, seeing him like this. There were no scars, there was no evidence of pain, there was only evidence of a hero, he sure did look like one. Medals adorned him, his sword hilt gleamed with majesty, everything about him was worthy of a king. He walked towards me.

"Congratulations," he said, "you have set my conscious free, I commend you."

He bowed in respect.

"Thank you sir," I answered, "I just don't see how I did anything."

Tilden smiled, "Greater powers greater than Earthly understanding are at work Reepicheep, but it is a power that some people, like you, already know how to use, you just don't know its proper name."

"What is the proper name then?" I asked.

"It is the simplest of the three words and it's called hope." Tilden answered, "I saw what you did for Kashmir back there, and display or no display, it gave me hope to speak out, which is why I am here right now instead of wallowing in my haunting misery. I don't have much longer 'til I return to it, but I just want to say that you have done more for me than I could ever do for one million people, you're someone I need to learn from."

"I'm sorry, what did you say about one million people?" I asked, a bit confused. Tilden looked at me, his face went from gratitude to serious deadpan in three milliseconds. "January 10th, 1942, will explain everything. It will make this part of the journey have some sense."

His golden appearance began to fade, the scars started to reappear, "The mist still has me Reepicheep, don't give up on me, I haven't given up on you." He disappeared.

Kashmir looked at Tavros, "Take care of him won't you?"

Tavros nodded, "Of course sir, what do you need me to do?"

"If we're going to talk like that, you might as well know, I'm a Captain of the First Russian Airborne. Call me Captain or Kashmir, but never both at the same time, it just sounds off-putting."

Tavros nodded, "Noted."

"Just make sure he doesn't kill himself." Kashmir said to him. Tavros smiled, "I can make sure of that."

The owl turned to me, "We'll speak later, when the sun sets, the stars are in view, and the fire is created from a dragon."

I smiled at him, "You must be joking right?"

Kashmir shook his head, looking at me as if he were about to devour me, "Am I making a joke, does my face looking amusing to you?" He said walking towards me.

"Alright," I said, backing off, "so there's going to be a dragon, fine, just don't expect me to be welcome to it."

"I don't expect anything from you, expect for you to save him." Kashmir took to the air and disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

Eustace walked over to the water bucket and mop and began swabbing the deck. Edmund was busy admiring a sword that he found, and Lucy was combing her hair again.

Tavros looked at me, "Who needs saving Reep?"

I sighed, "Everyone Tavros, everyone."

That night was restless. I slept in my cot, mind racing, I was completely breathless. When I realized that sleep was a useless effort, I turned over, pulling Tilden's journal from underneath my pillow (I had been keeping it there ever since Henri's death). I opened it to the requested date and began reading to myself.

* * *

><p><em>January 10th, 1942 <em>

_The winter cold doesn't kill you, a Russian man on the train told me. I asked him what that meant. He never would answer. _

_The train stopped, the door opened, revealing the light to us. Ahead of me was Heinrich Himmler, head of Hitler's Schutzstaffel. A tall man with wolf like eyes, Himmler scanned the room, hunting for prey. For me. _

_At his instruction we got off, I noticed the few amount of people who got off with me. There was obviously more when we left Vienna. I turned and saw them, the bodies lying deformed, rotten, and bleeding like bull carcass at a slaughterhouse._

_The man who told me about the winter stood next to me and said. "We are the final solution to the Jewish problem." A child was screaming for his mother. The man I was speaking with looked over, "They are the victims moi droog." I watched as the child, a boy of six, was dragged through a dark, cold gate, towards a dark, cold building. I heard a door open, close. A man stood on the roof of this building, opened a hatch door. _

_Terror. _

_Violence. _

_Mass hysteria. _

_Confusion._

_Moments later, a different door, on the side of this building opened. An older gentleman carried a wheel barrel and began collecting. _

_"Taking in the scenery?" Wilhelm said to the man and me. The Russian made his way to the mass people who were like lost sheep who lost their shepherd. I watched him go, he looked back at me with a hopeful smile. _

_"Is he your friend?" Wilhelm asked. "Does that matter?" I replied, looking up at him. Wilhelm smiled and walked back the way he came. _

_I walked towards the crowd, native languages meshed into one gibberish. Russian, English, German, Polish, Slav, all one big mess, one mass of confusion. I weaved my way through, trying to figure out what was going on. "Moi droog!" Someone called. I turned and found the Russian who spoke with me. He ushered me over. "What's going on?" I asked. _

_"Uniforms." he said, handing me a small gray, very unappealing cap. "Thanks I guess," I said. "What's your name?" _

_"Nikiv, you the doctor?" He asked. I nodded. _

_"I'm your assistant." _

_"Well," I said, "let's get to business then." _

_We walked into the camp, heading for the medical building. _

_Not surprising the camp had its own doctor, but he was not the person I would put on my recommendations list. He was a fat, short, repulsive, rude, perverted German who told us to strip down for inspection. I really didn't see the point in this, but they did it to me anyway. The German doctor looked at me, "And what, is a rat like you doing here?" He asked. _

_"I am a mouse." I said, standing up as tall as I could._

_"I personally don't give a fuck. You're all vermin anyway." The doctor said. I pulled out my blade, something the inspectors didn't realize I had. Idiots. _

_The German laughed, it was loud, hardy, and satanic. "How amusing!" I stood there. Stable, consistent eye contact. That was my mantra. Stable, consistent eye contact. Stable, consistent eye contact. The doctor composed himself, "Just what are you doing here?" He asked._

_"I'm the doctor." I replied, sheathing my blade and staring at him in an agonizing staring contest. "What do you plan to do?" The German said, leaning down to my eye level. "I don't plan to do anything," I said, "except your job." _

_"Oh really?" The doctor said to me, still having that smile on his face as if he ruled the world. "And what my friend is that?" _

_"Help people out of their Hells." I answered. The doctor laughed, the Russian cursed him out. The German doctor struck him down, threw his clothes on top of him. He moved to kick him when I stood in the way, once again, pulling out my blade. "Touch him and you'll be in crutches for the rest of your days!" I shouted. "And that goes for anyone, do you understand?" I said giving the most serious look I could to the German doctor, who simply smiled, kicked me like a soccer ball across the room and pulled a pistol. As I was hurling towards the wall, Nikiv was shot. The ringing sound echoed throughout the building. _

_Hope was dead, and it was killed by ruthless cowards. I walked out of the room and headed towards the huts, where the sleeping quarters were. I noticed that it was snowing. _

_The winter cold doesn't kill you._

_I best be getting to sleep, before taps and that damn crow starts yapping. I swear one of these days I'm going to kill that son of a bitch for waking me up at two in the morning._

* * *

><p>I closed the journal, placing it back underneath my pillow. Sleep would never come to me now.<p>

Eustace rolled around in his cot, he began mumbling to himself. Sleep talking.

"Don't leave me here alone" and "You can't leave me."

I sighed and peeked my head under to see what the matter was. He was fidgeting like a badger with rabies. I flipped over and tried to wake him up.

"Eustace, come on, wake up." I shook him, slapped his face, opened his eyelids, but nothing was working. I knew that if I stabbed him with my blade that it would wake everyone else up and I didn't want to face the wrath of my crew, so I tried hitting him again.

"Eustace!" I said as I hit him, harder than before. His mouth began to foam, he opened his eyes, his pupils were white. "By the lion's mane, Eustace, what happened to you?" I asked backing up in slight fear.

"Do you see what happens when you mess with me?" A voice said. I turned and standing before me, was Himmler, his eyes were a deep yellow. He laughed a bit. "Surprised?"

I nodded, jumping up, reaching for my blade that I also kept near my bedside and landed back on Eustace's bed. "Alright you sick bastard, let's dance."

Himmler stepped forward, "What has Tilden been filling your head with?"

He reached up for the journal, he waved it in my face. "This is all full of lies you know."

"What makes you think I'll believe that?" I said.

Himmler smiled as he snapped his fingers. His body transformed, rather quickly, into Tilden, who stood there smugly. I jumped to the floor, walked towards him, letting my tail swept the floor, back and forth, back and forth.

"Where is he?" I asked not in the mood for any sort of foolery. Tilden placed his journal in between his belt.

"Where is who?" He replied, as if he didn't know.

I rolled my eyes, "Do I really have to say it?"

The mouse walked towards me, something came from him, a green formless assistant. I knew what I was up against and smiled sheepishly.

"Look," I said, "I don't know the politically correct term to call you, and personally I don't give a damn, I just want to know what you want with my friends and what you want with me." Keeping my eye on Tilden's assistant, who made his way behind me, slowly making his way towards Eustace, I began to have the supposition that this helper of his was not here for tea and a friendly game of chess. My tail, which has a mind of its own, swung itself around to meet the this advancing incubus but alas it was unsuccessful.

I just kept my eye on Tilden, "If you harm him," I said, "believe me, you will be shown no mercy from me."

Tilden laughed, "What makes you think I want Eustace?"

The formless assistant, which turned into a mist, entered through my tail and up through the rest of me. I screamed, fell to my knees and submitted. I stared up at him, trying my best to catch my breath.

"You," I said, breathless, "bastard."

Tilden walked towards me, he got to my eye level, "I'll take that as a compliment." He raised his blade, reached over me and stabbed me in the back. I fell, wincing in pain.

If you've never been stabbed, it's like all the breath is taken away from you, your body stops moving, your brain goes in a frenzy, trying to save your life forces, and you just sit there. It's beyond painful, it's pure anguish. I pray you never experience it, and if you unfortunately do, don't hesitate to call me, I'll give that bastard a thrashing so hard he'll be blown back into the womb.

Anyway, I blacked out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII:**

Darkness, coldness, fear. Three things that coincide well with each other. I opened my eyes seeing nothing. A dark swirling vortex of infinite despair and vast misery. I stood, or at least, thought I did, for I couldn't tell where I was and listened.

Voices of ancient tongues clashed, speaking legends of the Old Kingdom, telling me warnings. _"Don't go into the light. It blinds and consumes us."_ It spoke again, a third. The fourth time, the ancients spoke in a different language, one that spoke only of death. I shall do my best to recite.

"Veckar suon bargiway, marlos xexi waynos."

_"When the ways of men die, the dead rise slowly."_

"What do you want?" I asked. The voices died away, followed by one coherent message, a plea, a submission.

"Reepicheep," a familiar voice called.

"Tilden?" I asked, "Where are you?"

"In front of you." He said. I looked down at my feet, and there, helpless, dying, and sitting in darkness was Tilden. His whiskers were black, his fur was charred, he lifted his hand. It was brittle, bits of flesh flaked off, revealing dead veins and pulsing muscles. His voice became weak, his eyes a burnt red. His teeth were rotted to their cores.

He spoke, voice, frail, tragic, and sickly, "My soul is dying Reepicheep." He coughed, "I can't go on like this. I'm sorry."

"What is there to be sorry for?" I said, knowing that I wasn't going to leave him like this. I gently picked him up. The next thing I knew I was screaming in agony, the weight of his burden was too great. I thought about Nikiv and those people in the inspection line. The fear, the pain, the hell they went through. I strained to carry him.

"It's too late to save me Reepicheep," Tilden said, "you were sent here to die, just like me."

"What happened to your hope?" I asked him, still trying to lift him without causing further damage to him.

"That died when you did." He said.

"I'm not dead," I answered. "and even if I am, I refuse to leave you." I heaved, I screamed, the back pain, thanks to Tilden's other, was throbbing like a giant's crushing grip. Still, somehow, I managed to heave him over my shoulder.

"You won't be able to go much further." Tilden said. "We'll see." I replied as I took a step towards the direction I thought was the way out.

The voices started up again. _"Don't go into the light. It blinds and consumes us."_ It became their mantra. Over and over drilling it into my brain, it was a parasitic phrase. As I walked, painfully and slowly in this void with Tilden on my back, he started to become limp, he dropped a bit.

I heaved him up, "Have courage, you've suffered hell before."

Tilden lost his breath, he became exhausted, "You don't have to do this Reepicheep." He said, taking short, staccato like breaths.

His burnt ashy fur began to irritate mine, and he grew heavier with each passing step, as if someone was adding a fifty ton weight each time.

"Yes," I forced myself to continue, my muscles screaming for salvation, "I do!"

I pressed on as my knees caved in. The pain increased, I felt like I was being pecked by vultures and stabbed by fifty swords. Pick your imagery as you wish, but it was starting to win me over.

"It's alright Reepicheep," Tilden said, his voice becoming weaker with each passing moment. "I am content to die here."

I stopped walking. I tried to catch my breath but the ancients began their obnoxious suffocating voices again, saying a second mantra. _"When the ways of men die, the dead rise slowly."_ Tilden started to slip from my grasp, I pulled him up, using all the strength I could muster.

"You're not falling!" I screamed again, and tried once more at walking. After about three seconds my back started to tear itself apart, my bones ripped in two. I thought my spinal cord would break, my brain was writing my will. I fell on all fours, refusing to let Tilden re-enter his abyss of death that still held firmly to him. A crackling noise of fire. I was forced down to my stomach. I looked up the ancient voices still repeating their mantras.

"Is that the best you can do!" I shouted in defiance.

"Reepicheep," Tilden said, voice almost unrecognizable, "it's too late."

"Never run from fear, for it does not exist. Never run from Death, for he does not prevail." I said, crawling in the same direction I had been going.

"Death does prevail in the end." Tilden said.

"Nonsense," I said, trying my best to lift his broken spirit, which at this point, I'd have to go through the entire void and say the best words I could, because he was that far gone. "it is only momentary, just like defeat."

"I have been defeated."

Tilden started to slip again, I pushed on top of me. My fur was beginning to feel sticky, my eyes became cloudy, I started hallucinating that I was already in the pits of despair. My soul trudged on, my brain accepted the fact that I was dead, a goner, that I have caused Tilden to die faster. That I couldn't keep any promises.

My chest became inflamed, my breath shortened, I was beginning to be consumed. Still I crawled.

"Get out while you still can." Tilden said to me.

I shook my head, "Not without you."

"Why do you risk your soul for mine?" He asked.

"Because, I made a promise to a friend, I made a promise to _you_."

"You always keep your promises?"

I reached out, trying to grab something, realizing that the crawling wouldn't work for much longer. I found nothing. I continued in misery.

Suddenly the ancients stopped their torment and silence began. A form started to take shape, a black hooded figure with a flock of ravens. The hood was removed, revealing Heinrich Himmler, smiling, like the devil he was. I gave him a fixed stare, pressing onward.

"You look tired," Himmler said, "why don't you stop?"

"I can't." I answered.

"Why not?" He said, "Getting out of here is hopeless."

"Nothing is hopeless."

Himmler laughed to himself and disappeared with his ravens in the same fashion he entered. Tilden's weight grew heavier, I couldn't continue. My fur became dark, I began to reek of rottenness.

"Just leave me here," Tilden said, "you don't need to be sacrifice."

"Neither do you." I answered, "you're more important than me."

"No I'm not," Tilden answered. "You're needed there. What good is it saving me?"

"Hope sir, you give people hope. You can't give up on them, you can't give up on me."

Tilden sighed in regret, "I'm sorry, but I believe I have indeed given up."

A tear fell down my face, "I haven't given up on you, I never will." I answered, "I will see you safe understand?"

Tilden nodded but didn't care. I tried standing, the screaming pain, the deafening roar of fear, the agonizing misery all rushed at once. I quickly stood and took deep breaths, struggling against my own will to lie down and die, heaving Tilden over my shoulders again. This time around my neck.

"If there's a way out of this," I said, underneath my breath, "please show me."

Suddenly a pushing force held me back, keeping me in one place as I tried to push through.

"If there's a way out of this," I repeated a bit louder this time, "please show me!"

The sound of wind, waves, water crashing.

"If there's a way out of this..." another push, this time it knocked me off my feet, sending my backwards. I lost Tilden. I foolishly let go. The pain eased on my soul but I was not satisfied. I realized what was happening, I was going back, I would land in the sea near the ship. My companions would rescue me or I would swim to safety, but Tilden, he was lost in a tragic darkness.

_"The end of all hope and the beginning of all fear..._"

* * *

><p>I landed in the water, the salt and wind hitting my face. I looked around a moment, spotted the ship and swam towards it. A battle with the waves, the wind and now, a slight rain. My back was still in great pain, along with the rest of me, and my muscles were about to give in and cramps started, but I swam anyway, thinking to myself how good a nice bed and a warm meal would feel like, even if it was oats, wheat, and fish.<p>

I climbed up the deck and made my way to my quarters, seeing that everyone was still asleep. Quietly, I climbed up into my cot and laid down to rest. For about three seconds because as soon as I closed my eyes we were told to wake up. Oh the joy.

Working in the rain isn't all bad, you slip a little, you may even fall but it's not the end of the world. I walked over to Caspian who was busy hanking some rope. "Your Majesty," I said, looking straight at him.

He looked back at me, "Reepicheep, what happened to you?" He asked, a bit concerned at my appearance, for I didn't exactly care that I still had ash and tar like substance all over me.

I was more focused on getting to bed. "I feel into the sea sir," I said, lying a bit, "I sank to the bottom and got into something dreadful." I stopped, I couldn't take it anymore, the guilt was killing me and Caspian saw this.

"You don't have to tell me Reepicheep," he said, "get some rest."

I bowed, apologized for the disturbance and went back down below.

Eustace was a slow mover, for he was still in his cot when I came back in.

"Eustace!" I called, trying to see if the boy was still sleeping. He didn't move. I scurried over, climbed up to his torso and stood there for a moment. His mouth was still covered in foam, his eyes were still white.

"Eustace, come on wake up." I said, hoping that this was all some sort of sick joke. Still nothing.

"Eustace!" I shook him. Still no response.

"Come on boy wake up!" I practically screamed, hitting him hard several times in the face to see if that would help. Still nothing. I checked his pulse. It lay still. I broke down and wept all the tears I carried. The boy was dead, and it was my fault.

"WHY COULDN'T YOU HAVE TAKEN ME!" I shouted, burying myself in the boy's torso. "Bring him back, he was only a boy!"

The flapping of wings.

I turned and saw Kashmir standing there looking at me and Eustace as if he were the cause of all this. He hung his head.

"I'm sorry Reepicheep. I truly am."

I nodded. imply the sight of him made me have the urge to kill. I jumped to the floor and wielded my blade, "What do you want with me?"

"I just want to help you." Kashmir said.

"Help me?" I said walking towards him, "You want to _help_ me?"

The owl nodded but said nothing.

"How about you start making some fucking sense you sick bastard!" I cried, trying my best to control myself. It didn't work.

"Why are you acting as I knew about this?" Kashmir asked, in a calm, worried voice.

"Because I think you did. You knew what was going to happen didn't you? You always appear after something horrible happens, and right now, you should be dead, but you're not, instead, Eustace is."

I paused, he just looked at me calmly, he was the better of the two of us, "You should be the one who's pushing up daises, not him!" I pointed his blade at his neck. "You've given me nothing but trouble, and now I'm going to end it."

"So you're going to be just like them?" He asked.

"I may consider it." I answered.

Kashmir sighed, "Then Tilden has lost this fight."

"He's dead." I said.

Kashmir looked at me, his eyes sorrowful, and his heart heavy. "Then I have lost then."

He turned towards the deck and flew out. When he was gone I sheathed my blade. I walked back towards Eustace and sighed.

"I'm sorry." I said, climbing up to his torso again. I closed his eyes.

"Don't cry," I said to him, but really I was talking to myself, "Think of it this way, at least you get to see your godfather again."

I jumped back down to the floor. "I wish could say more words, but these are all that need to be said: journey on valiant warrior, stay strong good herald, and don't wait for me."

* * *

><p>Suddenly, as if it were convenient for me, a muffled cry came forth and voices, the sounds of struggle, protruded my eardrums. Realizing where it was, I rushed on deck to see the commotion.<p>

The crew had Kashmir tied up to the mast. The wind and the rain thrashed about. "What is the meaning of this?" I asked, looking around walking towards my friend, "Why is he tied up?"

"Because," Tavros said, "he needs to be eliminated."

"Eliminated?" I said, turning towards the Minotaur. "Why, what has he done?"

"Why he's given you hope Reepicheep." An all too familiar voice said.

I scanned the deck and my eyes fell on Himmler, carrying Tilden who was perfectly fine now by the tail. He threw him on the deck. Tilden scrambled to his feet and pulled out his blade, he hissed, like a feral animal would.

"Heinrich!" He said, "Let them go, it's me you want!"

Himmler nodded, "Correction Dr. Wavell," he said, walking militantly towards him. "I want all of you."

Tilden backed up towards me, keeping eye contact on Himmler at all times. I looked at me, "Don't let the sword down. We might have to kill them."

"I hope it doesn't come to that." I said.

"Oh don't worry, it will." Himmler said, his red eyes flashed in the rain. Everyone's eyes were also red, and they too flashed. I pulled out my blade, dreading the thought of massacre.

Kashmir struggled against his bonds, "Don't worry boys, once I break these bonds, we're getting out of this."

I nodded, as Tilden and I circled around, "Best make it quick, Tilden said. "They look rather anxious."

Himmler laughed and raised his hand, " Sie töten."

_"Kill them." _


End file.
